


Apricity

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Love is a Sacrament [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Caleb's got some issues, Dom Fjord (Critical Role), Dom/sub, M/M, New Relationship, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Setting Boundaries, Sub Caleb Widogast, also smut. in case that wasn't clear, and angst because Caleb, bad bdsm etiquette mention, but this shouldn't be a shock by now, for once not Ikithon-related, or at least not directly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:29:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Fjord isn’t the most observant person.He’s self-aware enough to own up to the fact that there are things he misses- jokes that go over his head, new clothes and jewelry it takes him weeks to notice. He’s aware of most of his shortcomings, and he does what he can to mitigate them when and where he can.So it takes him awhile to notice, especially at the beginning.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Series: Love is a Sacrament [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040250
Comments: 17
Kudos: 143





	Apricity

**Author's Note:**

> Apricity- the warmth of the sun in winter

Fjord isn’t the most observant person.

He’s self-aware enough to own up to the fact that there are things he misses- jokes that go over his head, new clothes and jewelry it takes him weeks to notice. He’s aware of most of his shortcomings, and he does what he can to mitigate them when and where he can.

So it takes him awhile to notice, especially at the beginning.

Caleb doesn’t really touch any of them, save Nott, for the first few months they travel together. He’s very tightly wound, as Beau would say, keeps to himself, but he’s not the first person like that Fjord’s ever met. It’s obvious Caleb’s been through some shit in his life, and Fjord’s not going to judge a man for coping how he needs to, so long as it doesn’t impact anyone else.

It’s been raining steadily for the past few days, and while the weather has finally let up with streaks of sun poking through the clouds, the roads are still a muddy mess. They’re plodding along, only a few miles from the next town when Caleb slips. Without thinking, Fjord snaps his hand out, catching Caleb by the wrist to keep him from falling all the way into the mud. Caleb tenses with a quick inhale of breath, and Fjord is already apologizing when he glances up and catches sight of Caleb’s face, his mouth open in a small ‘o’ of surprise, eyes wide.

Once Fjord is certain Caleb has his footing, he lets go and Caleb immediately tugs his wrist close to his chest, muttering a quick thanks before hurrying to catch up to Nott a little further up the road. It’s not quite fast enough though for Fjord to miss the light flush across Caleb’s cheekbones.

He’s not sure what’s just happened, why what he did caused such a response, but his interest is piqued enough to want to find out. He might not be terribly observant, but he _is_ curious to a fault, and now that he’s noticed, it sticks in his brain and won’t let go.

Over the next few weeks, Fjord catches other things, small instances of unusual reaction that start to build something like a framework, an outline of a picture in his mind. It's hazy still, unfinished, so he waits, biding his time.

Somewhere along the way, though, he and Caleb begin flirting.

He’s not even certain when it starts, just that at a point they’ve been doing it for awhile and it feels natural, and so _good_ , like the small smiles Caleb turns on him sometimes when he’s said something especially clever.

Things progress, as they often do, from flirting to fleeting touches- Caleb touching Fjord’s hand to get his attention, Fjord bumping shoulders when they’re sitting side-by-side in the back of the cart as they travel, eliciting more of the small pleased smiles he’s becoming further enamored with.

Roommate assignments shift. One night Molly for some reason opts to room with Nott, saying he doesn’t plan to spend time in the room anyway, and they never really switch back. They spend time still pretending at distance, sticking to their respective beds, but one night Fjord has a nightmare- wakes coughing up water with the feel of tentacles still slithering across his skin- and Caleb ends up in bed with him, pressed close for comfort, the warmth of his palm on Fjord’s stomach as he rubs soothing circles a calming contrast to the cold and wet in his mind.

It becomes habit, the two of them retreating to their shared room when they’re given the opportunity to spend the night at an inn. Caleb often stays up later to work on his transcription and study, but most nights Fjord wakes from a doze to the feel of Caleb sliding under the covers next to him, pressing close so Fjord can wrap an arm around him and tug him closer. They both sleep better this way, and Fjord finds he doesn’t quite settle into deep sleep until he’s got Caleb in his arms.

It's on a quiet morning at an inn in a small no-name hamlet that things come to a head.

Fjord wakes first, comfortable and content, Caleb a warm weight tucked up along his front. He's considering dozing off for a bit longer when he shifts his hips and comes to a couple awkward realizations all at once. Firstly, he's definitely sporting morning wood. Not unheard of, and not even entirely uncommon, but normally there's enough space in the beds they share to allow for him to gracefully let it go away or wiggle out to deal with it elsewhere. Today, though, the bed they’re sharing is smaller, and Fjord is stuck with his back against the wall and Caleb pressed against his front. He tries to squirm back, to press further into the wall and away from Caleb, but there’s just nowhere to go. His second realization, which follows quickly on the heels of the first, is that Caleb is _quite_ close, the soft press of his ass nestled right up against Fjord’s cock, and between the warmth and the friction from his vain attempts to move back, things are quickly getting more dire than he’d expected. It’s a fight to hold back the whimper that wants to slip out of his mouth, and it’s near-torture to force his hips still from the desire to press forward again. He’s in the process of figuring out if he can climb up and over Caleb and escape to the washroom down the hall without waking him when Caleb shifts in front of him, and Fjord freezes.

The next shift of Caleb’s hips backward is decidedly less-accidental than the first one, and Fjord can’t quite suppress a groan.

“Cay-”

“If you like,” Caleb says, voice still soft and rough from sleep. “I could help you with that.”

Fjord swallows, licks his lips, and considers before he answers. They’ve been on the road to this point for awhile and he knows it- he thinks they’ve _both_ known it- but he also knows that once this happens, he doesn’t think he can go back.

“Are you sure, Caleb? I appreciate the offer, but I’m not looking for something casual, and I don’t know-”

Caleb turns over to face Fjord, becoming a warm line along the front of Fjord’s body again, which _isn’t helping_. His face as he looks up at Fjord is sleepy but earnest.

“I cannot promise forever,” he says, reaching for Fjord’s hand, and brings it up to press his lips to Fjord’s knuckles, his next words buzzing against Fjord’s skin in a way that makes him want to _move_ , desperately. “But I think that if you are willing to try for something, eh, _not_ casual, I would be willing to try. With you.” There’s a lovely flush working its way across Caleb’s face, more than can be explained by being sleep-warm, and Fjord gives in to the urge to duck down, pulling his hand free from Caleb’s grip to tilt the other man’s head up by the chin, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

After a split second Caleb reacts, pressing his body impossibly closer and tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and Fjord can’t help but respond in kind. They separate a few moments later, pleasantly short of breath, and Fjord huffs a laugh as Caleb darts in again for a quick peck to the corner of his mouth.

The next while is spent in warm touches and languid kisses. Fjord wants to think he’s growing accustomed to the feel of Caleb against him, the rasp of callouses against bare skin, but how could he? How could anyone grow used to something that feels so good? Caleb pulls sounds out of him he hadn’t been aware he could make, chest-deep rumbles as Caleb takes him in hand, gives his length a gentle squeeze. He’d be more embarrassed, but Caleb seems to like it, doing his best to get Fjord to do it again.

And again, and again.

Caleb doesn’t tease, doesn’t draw it out, and before too long Fjord’s groaning as his orgasm overtakes him, the sound caught against Caleb’s lips as he kisses Fjord through it. As he comes back down, Fjord is struck by the thought of how _easy_ it is- there’s none of the nerves he’d been expecting, none of the unease he’d thought might come up. There’s only Caleb, still partially draped over him, thumb rubbing absent circles at Fjord’s hip. The sensation is almost enough to get his dick interested again, but it’s far too soon; that doesn’t mean the fun needs to be over, though.

Caleb hasn’t had _his_ turn yet, after all.

Fjord brings a hand up to stroke down Caleb’s spine, from the nape of his neck down, and Caleb melts under the touch with a quiet hum. Fjord presses a kiss to Caleb’s hair.

“That was wonderful. How would you feel about my returning the favor?”

A shiver goes through Caleb that Fjord can easily feel, accompanied by a puff of warm air as Caleb releases a breath against his neck. “I- _ja_ , if you want to, but-”

Moving slowly enough that Caleb can get out of the way if he wants, Fjord shifts himself up and over until Caleb is laid out beneath him on the mattress, and gods, without his books and coat and layers, he looks so much _smaller_ doesn’t he?

“Cay, is it something _you_ want?” He keeps his voice neutral, giving Caleb the choice, but putting enough weight into it that it’s clear he expects there to _be_ a choice.

Caleb swallows, tongue darting out to lick his lips, eyes widening as if he’s surprising himself when he nods. “Yes, please.”

“Hmm,” Fjord rumbles, delighted. “So polite.” He wastes no time, leaning down to mouth at Caleb’s collar bone, pressing kisses up the column up his neck until he can nuzzle at Caleb’s jaw, Caleb squirming under him with a quiet gasp. Caleb didn’t tease, but Fjord has no such compunctions about taking his time, learning what makes Caleb twitch and writhe under him, what pulls gasps and quiet moans from the other man’s lips.

It’s only once Caleb is quietly begging, Fjord’s name a breathless whine as he pleads for relief that Fjord takes pity on him. He doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath, the way Caleb’s cock twitches when Fjord’s claws prick gently into the pale skin of his hip, holding him still; nor does he miss the fact that there's been nothing stopping Caleb from chasing his release on his own. Something to be explored at a later time, perhaps. In the meantime, Caleb’s more than earned his attention.

Using his free hand, Fjord gets a firm grip on Caleb’s cock, carefully watching Caleb's face as he brings him off. There's something delicious in knowing that he's the one responsible for Caleb looking like this, so open and debauched, and he hopes Caleb meant what he said about trying for something more, because he _really_ wants there to be a next time.

Caleb comes with a stuttering breath and a near-imperceptible whine, like he's forcing himself quiet, and something in Fjord's chest twinges. He hadn't expected Caleb to be loud, but there's a part of him that craves it, wants to know what Caleb sounds like when he’s so overcome he can't _help_ but make noise.

In the meantime, though, he’s content to have Caleb in his arms, skin sweat-slick and warm, his pulse fluttering at his neck as he calms. They lay together for awhile in the quiet nest of blankets, listening as the inn comes to life in the rooms around them, hearing the growing calls of the merchants out on the street.

“We’re going to have to get up eventually,” Fjord murmurs, and he laughs at Caleb’s quiet grumble as the man wriggles down to press his face into Fjord’s chest.

“Must we?”

Fjord grins.

“Unless you want to explain to Jester why we’re taking so long. I’m sure she’d be _very_ interested to know what-”

Caleb groans, but then rolls over and pushes himself up to sitting on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to stretch. Fjord drinks it up, letting his eyes wander over the pale expanse of lean whipcord muscle. There are more scars than he’s expecting, but considering what he knows of Caleb’s past, he also knows he hasn’t had the most peaceful life. He reaches out just before Caleb stands, and strokes over one of the thin marks along the side of Caleb’s ribs, enjoying the feel of warm skin under his palm. For his part, Caleb sucks in a breath but doesn’t jump, turning to look over his shoulder at Fjord.

“If you start that I fear we are going to get distracted.”

Deciding to test a theory, Fjord lets his expression harden slightly and carefully presses the tips of his claws against Caleb’s side, barely enough to dimple the skin. His suspicions are partially confirmed when Caleb’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open slightly as a faint blush colors his face.

Caleb swallows, and it’s intensely gratifying to hear how rough and low his voice has gotten again.

“Perhaps more than _just_ distracted.”

Fjord’s very tempted to press further when Caleb startles, eyes going momentarily distant.

“ _Ja_ , Nott, we are just getting dressed. We will meet you all downstairs momentarily.”

With the moment broken, Fjord pulls his hand back, gives Caleb room to pull himself together. They get cleaned up and dressed in relative quiet, though it’s still comfortable, easy in a way Fjord’s never really experienced before. Before long they’re ready to go, and they head down to join the rest of the group for breakfast.

Things don’t really change between them, is the thing.

Nothing gets weird, or awkward. They still sit next to each other in the cart, or in booths at inns when they stop for the day. They share watches when they’re camping on the road, and rooms when they’re in town, and on the whole, nothing changes.

Except-

What were fleeting touches become more daring- Caleb leans against him as he reads in the cart, head occasionally resting on Fjord’s shoulder when he drifts off to a nap; what were quick touches to catch Fjord’s attention become more lingering, and contain a squeeze of his hand or arm from time-to-time. He lets Caleb take the lead, never wanting to do anything the other man is uncomfortable with, and after a point there’s something like a release of tension when Caleb realizes Fjord is never going to force anything, isn’t going to push him faster than he’s willing to go.

More than just sharing a room, they continue to share a bed when they’re in a town, and more often than not that leads to more- more kisses, more touches, and to Fjord’s delight, more orgasms. Everything is going well, but Fjord can’t help but think there’s still something missing. It’s difficult to really pinpoint what it is- they get along as well as they always have, _better_ even in some ways. The others have taken their changing relationship in stride with only minimal teasing. Things are wonderful, _Caleb_ is wonderful, but there’s something just out of reach, some new level to things that remains elusive.

Caleb introduces a new spell to the group, much better than his tiny dome; the magically-summoned tower has rooms for them all, though he and Fjord continue to share. It’s nice having a large, real bed in a decently-sized room with a fireplace, even in the middle of nowhere. It’s especially nice, Fjord has found, because it makes it that much easier to get Caleb naked and sprawled out under him. For all his initial desire to hide, Caleb isn’t especially modest, and it doesn’t take much prompting from Fjord to get him undressed and laid out, pale skin glowing against the deep burgundy bedding Caleb prefers in their rooms. Fjord has only paused long enough to get his boots and armor off, to untuck his shirt and roll up his sleeves. Caleb is looking up at him, eyes hooded, cheeks pink from arousal and the heat of the roaring fire place, and it takes more self-control than Fjord is willing to admit to to keep from pouncing on him. He has a plan, he reminds himself. He has a plan and a goal, which is to see if he can suss out how to make this even better for the both of them, and that’s going to require patience.

“I was wondering,” he says, letting his voice take on the chest-deep rumble that never fails to get a shiver out of Caleb. “If you would be amenable to trying something new tonight.”

Caleb tilts his head on the pillow, curious, and licks his lips. He remains loose-limbed, relaxed, and not for the first time Fjord is in awe of the trust Caleb gives him.

“What did you have in mind?”

Crawling up the bed, Fjord leans down and kisses him, one hand cradling the back of Caleb’s head, fingers threading through his hair, while the other rests heavy and warm at Caleb’s hip, thumb rubbing back and forth over the divot there. He lets the tip of his claw scratch lightly, drinking in the jerk of Caleb’s hips, the hitch in his breathing. He pulls back after a moment to find Caleb blinking slowly at him, flush spreading prettily down his neck to his chest. He pauses a moment for dramatic effect before sitting up and reaching for Caleb’s hands, pressing his lips to the knuckles of each before lifting Caleb’s arms up and over his head so his hands are near the headboard. He gives Caleb’s wrists a light squeeze before pressing them down to the mattress, and even in the low light of the fireplace it’s readily evident how dark Caleb’s eyes have gotten, only a faint sliver of ice blue visible around the edges.

“I’d like to play a game,” he says quietly, releasing Caleb’s wrists. “Where you keep your hands there, because I’ve asked you to, and I make you feel good as a reward for your good behavior.”

Caleb’s face does something complicated, flashing between emotions so quickly Fjord has trouble keeping up, but it finally settles on a look of stunned excitement that Fjord hasn’t seen on him before. Caleb swallows again, coughs to clear his throat.

“That, eh, that sounds good, _ja_.”

“Marvelous,” Fjord purrs, leaning down to kiss Caleb again, framing his face in both hands, enjoying the heat of Caleb’s flush as he rubs his thumbs over Caleb’s cheeks. After a moment he pulls back just far enough to speak again. “If at any point you want or need to stop, just say stop, and I will.”

Caleb strains up to kiss him again, but keeps his hands where they are. After a second he has to drop back down, unable to hold the position. “What happens if my hands move?”

Fjord considers, watches Caleb’s face carefully to gauge his reaction. There’s no fear there, no concern, just a sense of excitement, of anticipation, as if he’s hoping Fjord will say something in particular.

“Well, then I suppose I’ll have to punish you.”

Caleb’s reaction is immediate, and it finally clicks in Fjord’s mind what he’s been seeing all these months. It’s something more than desire- he doesn’t quite have the words for it yet- but it’s obvious Caleb is on board, if his barely-stifled noise of want is anything to go by.

“ _Ja_ ,” he says, voice breathy. “That sounds fair.”

With that Fjord begins the enjoyable task of taking Caleb apart.

Despite his lack of volume, Caleb has always been wonderfully responsive, shuddering and twitching under Fjord's attentions, and now is no different. Fjord straddles Caleb's hips, hooking his feet near Caleb's thighs, keeping his lower body pinned while he gets to work. It's a good thing he does; even with his lower half held down and his wrists kept stubbornly over his head, Caleb still manages to twist and writhe like an eel, the quiet gasps and moans driving Fjord to distraction.

He spends time kissing and nipping his way down Caleb’s chest, carefully scraping his claws over Caleb’s ribs. Under him, Caleb’s panting for breath, whole body seeming to glow with arousal, and Fjord resettles his weight to keep Caleb from bucking his hips up. Caleb _whines_ in frustration, biting at his lower lip with his eyes scrunched shut, and Fjord can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry, was there something you wanted?”

To Fjord’s delight, Caleb mutters something in Zemnian that sounds a lot like a curse, and shakes his head from side to side.

“Well, you see that is a real shame.” Fjord places a palm against the center of Caleb’s chest to hold him in place and uses the tip of a claw to carefully circle around a nipple, drawing it up into a peak. The sound Caleb makes is obscene, which only compels Fjord to do it again. “You see you’re being _very_ good for me, Caleb, and if you were to ask for something, there’s a more-than-fair chance I’d give it to you.”

A garbled sound makes its way out of Caleb’s throat, his mouth falling open with a sharp gasp, hips twitching helplessly as Fjord takes Caleb’s nipple between blunt fingers and gently tweaks it. Up past Caleb’s head, his fingers curl into fists, but his hands stay where Fjord put them surely as if they’d been bound there, and Fjord has to admire Caleb’s fortitude.

“Are you _sure_ there’s nothing you’d like? I’m content to continue on like this all night. Though didn’t you tell me this tower of yours lasts for a whole day?” He rolls Caleb’s nipple between his fingers, slow and steady, unrelenting; under him, Caleb groans, shuddering, as his fingers find and grip the headboard.

“Fjord, _bitte,_ please, I need-”

“Hmm,” Fjord hums. “What do you need, Caleb, tell me.”

“ _Touch me_.” Caleb’s voice is as strained as Fjord’s ever heard it outside of combat, like he’s barely holding himself together. It’s devastating in the best possible way to know that he’s the one who’s made Caleb sound like this, but at his heart Fjord’s always been something of a shit.

“Why Caleb, I _am_ touching you.”

The look Caleb manages to level at him makes Fjord laugh, and he pets Caleb’s stomach soothingly. “I know what you meant, I’m just teasing. I have you, don’t worry.”

He lets his hand slide down, fingertips drawing over increasingly-sensitive skin, and when he finally makes contact with Caleb’s cock, he swears Caleb temporarily stops breathing. Fjord swipes the pad of his thumb through the bead of precome at the tip and smears it down, rubbing experimentally just under the head, and it pulls another noise out of Caleb, an almost-wounded sound.

“Fjord, _please_.”

After that there’s no more teasing, just skin-on-skin, Fjord watching Caleb’s face closely for any sign that this is too much as he shoves Caleb headlong towards his release.

Caleb comes with a chest-deep groan, the loudest noise Fjord’s gotten from him yet, his back arching up off the bed. The muscles in his arms and neck cord with the effort of staying in place even as his face twists in pleasure, and Fjord can’t imagine the concentration that takes.

He finds he wants to take that last scrap of control that Caleb still has, and wants to watch it crumble and break under his careful attention.

He puts the thought away for now, and instead gentles Caleb through the end of his orgasm, wiping his hand after on the coverlet. Crawling up the bed, Fjord settles near Caleb’s shoulder and takes hold of Caleb’s wrists, tugging slightly.

“It’s alright, Caleb, you can let go, now. You did very well.”

There’s a moment’s delay, as if it takes effort to let go, but then Caleb’s fingers disengage from the wood of the headboard where they’ve been clinging so desperately. Fjord pulls them to his mouth, kissing Caleb’s knuckles again while pointedly looking Caleb in the eye as he does.

Caleb, for his part, only manages to hold his gaze for a spare moment before breaking away, looking quietly pleased.

“I think if you enjoyed that even half as much as I did,” Fjord says, giving Caleb’s wrists a light squeeze, “Then we should have a deeper conversation about what we want.” Caleb looks about to argue, and Fjord lets go of a wrist to press a finger to Caleb’s lips, quieting him. “Not tonight, though. Tonight we clean up, and rest, and we can discuss in the morning.”

Caleb nods, then his eyes flick down and to the side, and then back up. Fjord removes his finger, and Caleb licks his lips, slowly, and with intent.

“Are you to make me wait until morning to help you with that as well?” Caleb gestures with his chin at the prominent bulge in Fjord’s pants.

“No,” Fjord says, lips tilting up in a smile again. “No, I think that we can handle tonight.”

It’s not long before Fjord finds himself on his back in the bed, Caleb straddling his lap and sinking down onto him after a quick moment of preparation. He tries to give Caleb an out, that if he’s still too sensitive it doesn’t have to be this, but Caleb hushes him with a smile.

“I would not do anything I didn’t want to, Fjord. Let me make you feel good, as you made me feel.”

It’s so rare Caleb asks for anything, Fjord finds himself giving in, grabbing Caleb’s hips and holding on for dear life as Caleb starts to move. 

It doesn’t take long; Fjord’s been half-hard most of the day thinking about what he was going to suggest, the reality of it is far better than anything he could have imagined.

After they’ve cleaned up and resettled in bed, they draw together, and Fjord luxuriates in being able to have this- somewhere comfortable and safe to stay, the warm weight of Caleb in his arms, relaxed and drowsing. He pulls Caleb close enough to kiss the top of his head, and they fall asleep, sated and content.

They do have a conversation the next morning, still warm from sleep and pressed close as they can. The lights in the room are dim, the bed is cozy, and the conversation far less awkward than Fjord had imagined it would be. He has something of an unfair advantage, his vision letting him see Caleb in shades of gray, while Caleb is likely unable to make Fjord out as more than a shape at his side. Fjord drinks him in, the small shifts of expression, the idle skate of Caleb’s fingers over Fjord’s chest as he speaks, voice low and gravely.

At the end, they come to an arrangement.

They will continue on as they have been, see where their relationship might take them, with the addition of some more _adventurous_ activities sprinkled in, to see how it goes. They discuss limits; Caleb seems very adamant on the subject, and Fjord has no reason to disagree. He has no desire to see Caleb harmed, doesn’t wish to use Caleb’s willing submission in a way that would cause true hurt. Caleb asks for Fjord’s boundaries in turn, and somehow Fjord hadn’t seen it coming. He tries to tell Caleb he doesn’t have any, that he’s aware of, and Caleb frowns, a furrow appearing between his brows. Fjord takes the opportunity to do what he always wants to and leans in to kiss it away.

“I said that I’m _aware_ of, Caleb. If anything comes up, I promise to let you know.”

Caleb accepts it, though not without a fair amount of grumbling; Fjord quickly distracts him by kissing him, then pressing him down into the nest of blankets on the bed and teasing him until he squirms.

And things are good.

They’re closer now than they’ve ever been, and while their friendship has strengthened, Fjord would be lying if he said the sex hadn’t also improved. It had been good already, but with their arrangement it adds a whole new level of excitement, each wondering what the other will come up with.

Sometimes it’s Fjord making suggestions, introducing little games like the first- Caleb keeping his hands where Fjord puts him, or trying to hold a position while Fjord does his damnedest to make him drop it.

Other times it’s Caleb instigating things, dropping to his knees as soon as they’re alone, looking up at Fjord, eyes wide, inviting him to play with a small but genuine smile.

Then there are also times that aren’t wonderful.

Both of them have led difficult lives, and Caleb’s history especially has left behind pit traps and spikes they occasionally fall into.

Caleb insists so strongly on boundaries and limits because he’s had his own ignored. The day Fjord learns that, he thanks Caleb for telling him, and once Caleb’s asleep, goes to the washroom and punches a wall until his knuckles bleed.

He learns of Caleb’s history in fits and starts, each piece he learns sparking his hatred for the people who've hurt Caleb, and breaking his heart for the kind and gentle man in his life all the more. He knows Caleb doesn’t think very highly of himself, has some opinions of his self-worth that Fjord abjectly disagrees with. Whatever Caleb thinks, there’s nothing he could have done to deserve the sort of treatment Fjord suspects he received.

Unfortunately, time slips forward, not back, and there’s nothing Fjord can do other than treat Caleb’s cracks and splinters with the care he should have gotten in the first place.

  
  


One day, Caleb burns Fjord.

It’s an accident, happening in the heat of battle, and Fjord is well-aware of how chaotic a battlefield can be. Caleb sets off a fireball, not realizing Fjord’s in the blast radius, and Fjord can’t get out of the way fast enough. He has just enough time to see Caleb’s eyes go wide from across the clearing before the flash and heat of the explosion overtake him.

Thankfully, the battle doesn’t last much longer, and none of them have fallen in the fight. He lets Caduceus heal him, and the tight flare of burned skin cools and soothes back to pristine forest green. Thanking him, Fjord looks around and catches Caleb watching him from the treeline. He realizes Fjord’s noticed him and his eyes flick away as he ducks off to poke at the body of one of the enemy combatants. It’s odd that he hasn’t come over to check that Fjord’s okay- usually first thing after a fight they both check in, reassuring each other they’re alright. Instead, Caleb keeps his distance, lips pressed into a line and body held so close and tight it makes Fjord’s shoulders ache just to look at him. He’s sheet-white, but when Fjord catches Jester’s arm on her way past and asks, she assures him that Caleb is fine, barely a scratch on him, and it’s already been patched up.

He thanks her, and as strange as it seems, if Caleb needs space, Fjord’s more than willing to give it to him.

They all regroup and head back to town, and it’s impossible to ignore how quiet Caleb is, far more than usual, and for all his intent to give the man space, when Fjord sees him starting to dig his fingers into his arms, he reaches out and takes Caleb’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

He doesn’t expect Caleb to startle, but he doesn’t let it deter him.

“If you want,” he says quietly, low enough only Caleb should be able to hear him. “I’ll let go.”

Caleb won’t look at him, eyes resolutely ahead, as if the collar of Beau’s coat is the most interesting thing in the world, but his head gives a nearly-imperceptible shake.

“Alright then.”

He spends the rest of the walk back holding Caleb’s hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over it. It’s mildly concerning how chilled Caleb’s fingers have gotten, but he also knows that it happens sometimes after a fight; Caleb once explained that it takes more energy for him to cast a spell than some of their friends, Fjord included, since he doesn’t have the backing of an otherworldly entity to help him do it. He’ll just have to make sure Caleb gets some food in him when they get back.

By the time they reach the inn Caleb looks like he’s ready to run at the first loud noise, and Fjord instructs him to head on up to their room and get cleaned up while he grabs them something to eat. Caleb nods sharply, still silent, and beelines for the stairs up to their room the second Fjord lets go of his hand.

Having obtained a tray of food and some honey-sweetened tea from Caduceus, Fjord heads up to their room. He gets the door open, steps inside, and pauses at the sight that greets him. Caleb is kneeling on the floor shirtless, back to the door, arms behind him in what Fjord thinks of as his standard position. Caleb hates having his back to doors and windows when kneeling, preferring to have his back to a solid wall so he can see the entrances and exits from his peripherals. Not knowing what to make of this turn of events, Fjord bumps the door closed behind him, making sure it’s latched and locked before crossing to the desk against the far wall to set the tray down.

When he turns back, it’s difficult to get a read on Caleb. His head is partially bowed, hair falling in front of his face like a veil, and Fjord thinks the only reason Caleb’s shoulders aren’t up near his ears from tension is that he’s been far too well-trained for that. On the floor just in front of Caleb’s knees is his belt, curled in a coil like a snake. Fjord takes a step closer and stops as he sees Caleb tense. At a loss for what else to do, Fjord drops to his knees as well, unwilling to loom.

“Cay, can you tell me what’s going on in your head right now?”

There’s silence, and he’s getting sure he’s going to have to ask again when Caleb speaks, the words so quiet he might not have caught them if he hadn’t already been straining to hear.

“I hurt you.” It’s a simple phrase, but those three words are filled with such regret and self-loathing that it’s hard to bear.

“It was an accident,” Fjord says softly, not wanting to startle Caleb again. “You know just as well as I do that in a fight everything is like as not to go sideways, and that’s at the _best_ of times. You’re one man, Caleb. I don’t expect you to be able to keep track of the entire field at once. You didn’t hurt me on purpose.”

“But I _did_ hurt you.”

“Yes, you did,” Fjord says, knowing that denying it won’t do any good. “But like I said, it was an _accident_. I don’t blame you for it. You didn’t start that fight, and in fact you helped end it much faster and at a lower cost to us than it might have otherwise.” He inches forward on his knees, and stops again when Caleb’s breath hitches. “Caleb, I don’t blame you.”

“But you _should_.” Caleb’s voice is sharp, dripping with venom, and while Fjord knows it’s not aimed at him, knowing Caleb is aiming it at _himself_ doesn’t make him feel any better.

Eyes flicking down, Fjord again takes in Caleb's belt, sitting on the floor as if waiting to strike, and his blood chills as what Caleb's after starts to take shape. He's seen the scars on Caleb's back, on the backs of his thighs, and he can't help but wonder what perceived slights Caleb's former partners used as an excuse to hurt him.

He takes a deep centering breath, lets it out again. He has to be careful here.

"But I don't." He tilts his head, trying to catch more of Caleb’s expression. "I would like you to tell me, though, if I _did_ blame you- what would you expect me to do? What did you think was going to happen when I got back up here?"

Caleb doesn't hesitate.

"Correction."

"Correction-" Fjord reaches down and picks up Caleb's belt, doing his best to ignore Caleb's flinch. Holding it in his hands, he runs his fingers over the leather, worn soft and supple from constant use, and imagines. He imagines Caleb on his knees like he is now, curled forward so his forehead is on the floor, hands flat on the floor near his head, leaving the vulnerable curve of his back a blank page to write his penance on.

He can't imagine taking advantage of Caleb in that way, can't imagine being the sort of person who _would_.

When he tries to catch Caleb's gaze again, Caleb's still staring at the floor in front of Fjord's knees, body so tense he's starting to tremble.

"Is having your back to the door part of your correction as well?"

Caleb nods, the motion jerky. _"Ja."_

"Because it makes you uncomfortable?"

Caleb swallows. _"Ja."_

He spares one more look at the belt before tossing it over to land on Caleb's pack, and Caleb jumps at the sound of the buckle sliding and hitting the floor.

"I'm not going to 'correct' you, Caleb."

At this Caleb's head finally comes up, his eyes bright and almost wild behind the fall of his hair.

"But- but why not?"

"Caleb-" Fjord takes a risk and reaches out, cupping side of Caleb's face. "Caleb, you don’t deserve correction."

He realizes it’s the wrong thing to say as Caleb's expression turns stricken. Mouth opening and closing for a moment, Caleb seems to gather himself, though now there's tears forming in his eyes.

"I thought-" He swallows, struggling for composure. "My sincerest apologies if I've misunderstood my place, sir. Please tell me what I can do-" His voice cracks, and he tries again. "What I can do to earn the privilege of correction."

 _Fuck_.

“Caleb- Caleb _no_ , that’s not- fuck, I’m explaining this wrong.” Fjord presses into Caleb’s space, taking Caleb’s face between his hands and tilting it up to meet his eyes. “I’m not saying you’re unworthy of correction, I’m saying you’ve done nothing to warrant it. And even if you _had_ , this isn’t how I would do it. I’m not going to _beat_ you.”

“But-” Caleb’s at a loss, and Fjord has rarely seen him look so young. “I don’t-but why?”

“I understand that some of your partners-” and Fjord can’t keep the curl of derision out of his voice. “-may have done things differently, but that isn’t how _I_ do things. If you still feel the need to- to _atone_ , we can figure something out, but I’m not going to _hurt_ you, Caleb.” He pauses, making sure Caleb is meeting his eyes when he quietly says, “You’ve been hurt enough.”

A tear breaks free and rolls down Caleb’s cheek as his face twists, and Fjord decides he’s had enough of distance. Fjord pulls him close, leaning in to kiss the tear away before tugging Caleb forward.

Caleb tucks his face in against Fjord’s chest, hands coming forward to cling to his armor, and Fjord does his best to comfort him. As with many things, Caleb is also silent when he cries, though Fjord can feel his shoulders shake; he rubs a hand up and down Caleb’s back, and after a while Caleb calms, slumping against him. Pressing a kiss to Caleb’s hair, he turns his face to let his cheek rest on the top of Caleb’s head.

“I don’t blame you. Accidents happen, and it’s unfortunate, but it could happen to anyone. I’m telling you- there’s nothing for you to apologize for, nothing to make up for. And I will _keep_ telling you as many times as I need to.”

They sit there a while longer, Caleb curled against his chest, until Fjord’s knees start to complain too much to ignore.

“Do you think you’d be okay to move to the bed? I’d like you to eat, if you can.”

Caleb nods, and while he’s quiet, it has nowhere near the same weight and tension to it as his earlier silence had. This is calmer, the drained exhaustion of catharsis, and Fjord can only imagine how soundly Caleb is going to sleep.

How soundly they’re _both_ going to sleep.

Caleb slumps against him while they eat, sipping on the now-lukewarm tea. They finish, and Fjord manages to get the teacup from him before it slips from his hands. He gets Caleb to his feet, if only long enough to get the blankets pulled back, having him settle down on the bed as soon as he has. He gets Caleb’s boots off, urging him under the covers, and it’s a testament to how drained Caleb is that he doesn’t vie to stay up and read as he often does. Instead, he sinks into the mattress, nuzzling his face into the pillow; it’s something Fjord’s seen him do a hundred times, but this time there’s something especially endearing about it.

He sits on the bed, just close enough to be able to reach over and gently run his fingers through Caleb’s hair, and Caleb sighs, sinking just a little further into the bed.

“Are you able to summon Frumpkin right now?”

Caleb cracks his eyes open to gaze up at him.

“ _Ja_.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and bring him out, then. I’m sure he’s been worrying.”

They both know that’s not how this works, but thankfully Caleb is too tired to call him on it, and snaps his familiar into place on the bed between them.

Frumpkin’s tail gives a flick before picking his way over the blanket to Caleb, bonking his head against Caleb’s nose when he gets there, beginning to purr. Muttering something in Zemnian and rubbing his nose, Caleb gathers Frumpkin close, sinking his fingers into soft warm fur.

Something releases in Fjord’s chest as he sees Caleb relax, and he lets himself start to get undressed.

He ends up in bed a short while later, and Caleb situates Frumpkin to his other side so he can tuck himself up against Fjord, and Fjord’s glad of it, pulling him close.

In an echo of a conversation they’d had months ago, the next morning they talk, still snuggled together and sleep warm, with Frumpkin purring up a storm from where he’s tucked behind the bend of Caleb’s knees.

He’d promised Caleb that if he found a limit, something he didn’t like, he would tell him, and he’s found one. He won’t let Caleb use him to punish himself with; he won’t be a tool of Caleb’s self-recrimination.

“If there are things you want to try, types of pain you enjoy, I’m willing to try most things once,” he says, letting his hand rest as a warm grounding weight over Caleb’s ribs. “But if your intent is to harm yourself, to make yourself hurt because you think you deserve it- I won’t be party to that.”

Caleb nods, and for a few minutes the quiet lays soft around them. Fjord starts to think Caleb’s dozed off again when the other man speaks, head tucked under Fjord’s chin and breath puffing warm against his skin.

“Before,” Caleb says haltingly. “Before, it was- forgiveness was something I had to earn through suffering. As a way to prove I meant it. They told me they were correcting my behavior because they cared, that I was lucky they were investing the time and effort, and I should be thankful. Grateful, even.” Caleb shifts, then settles. “And I believed them.”

“So when I said I wouldn’t correct you-”

Caleb curls in, almost shrinking in on himself, and Fjord only holds him tighter.

“I was worried it was because you did not think me worthy of the effort.”

“ _Cay_ -”

“ _Ja_ , I know how ridiculous it sounds now, in the-” He glances to the window. “-not quite light of day, but last night, in the moment, all I knew was that I had hurt you, and the only way I knew to fix it, to express how sorry I was, wasn’t there. I will admit I didn’t handle it as well as I could have.”

Giving the man in his arms a squeeze, Fjord shakes his head. “However you were treated in the past, whatever they may have told you about how things like this work? _I_ don’t work that way. I’m never going to hit you out of anger, or as punishment for something. The only time I’ll ever give you pain is if it’s something you specifically ask for because you think you’ll _enjoy_ it. Not because it’s something you feel you have to endure to earn my care.” Pressing a kiss to Caleb’s hair, he can’t help but give Caleb another squeeze. “I _already_ care for you, Caleb. Quite a lot, in fact. It’s not something you have to earn with suffering; it’s something I’m more than happy to give you for free.”

Caleb nods against Fjord’s chest, arm tightening where it’s draped over Fjord’s waist. “I- I will endeavor to remember that.”

“I’ll remind you as many times as I need to.”

  
  


“Does this mean anything?”

Caleb is on his knees in the middle of their room in the Tower, wrists crossed behind him, his left wrist caught in his right hand. It’s a default position, the one Caleb always falls into unless otherwise specified, and it’s happened often enough that it feels like it’s a Thing. Fjord gently nudges at Caleb’s right wrist with the toe of his boot, and Caleb’s breath hitches, though he doesn’t say anything. Fjord moves back around to the front so he can more-easily read Caleb’s face, and cups Caleb’s jaw, running his thumb over Caleb’s cheek, flushed and warm beneath his touch. “At your convenience, Caleb.”

He hadn’t thought Caleb’s face could flush brighter, but apparently it can.

“It’s-” Caleb clears his throat, face going through an interesting series of expressions before settling on mild consternation. “It’s considered the appropriate position for casters in my...situation.”

Fjord hums, lowering his hand to swipe his thumb over Caleb’s lower lip, pressing lightly at the corner of Caleb’s mouth, and Caleb’s pupils blow wide. “Subservient, you mean?”

Caleb audibly swallows before answering, his breath puffing warm across Fjord’s hand. “ _J-Ja._ It’s symbolic, of- of-”

Fjord huffs in amusement, taking pity on him and moving his hand away. Caleb blinks, and starts speaking again.

“It’s symbolic of the caster’s willingness to be vulnerable, a symbolic binding, if you will. An expression of the tacit agreement not to cast, similar to peace binding a weapon. It’s occasionally a literal binding, but it takes a great deal of trust for a caster to willingly allow that, to make themselves helpless that way. In more formal settings, the caster might also be silent, or actually gagged, as a further demonstration of that vulnerability.”

“Ah.” Fjord runs his fingers through Caleb’s hair, letting his claws gently scratch at his scalp as he thinks of all the times Caleb’s let Fjord pin his wrists near his head with no fear, of what Caleb’s agreed to try this evening, and can’t help but feel honored by it. “Thank you for telling me, and for the privilege of having your vulnerability this way.”

Caleb’s blush, which had begun to subside, flares to life again, stronger than ever. 

Continuing, Fjord cards through Caleb’s hair, letting it slip through his fingers like silk.

“I know you’ve been hurt before, you’ve said as much. I hope you know how much this means to me, that after all of that, you still allow me to do this.”

Under his hand, Caleb’s head tilts up, eyes bright and fierce in the firelight. “You are _nothing_ like them, Fjord. They were many of them horrible people, and you-” Caleb just looks at him a moment, warmth and fondness chasing each other over his face. “-you are nothing like that. You are caring, and wonderful, and far better than what I deserve.”

Tangling his fingers in Caleb’s hair, Fjord tightens his hand into a fist, drawing a gasp from the other man. It leads to a whine as he uses the hold on Caleb’s hair to tilt his head back further, exposing the line of his throat. 

“I of course appreciate the compliment. I’m very glad to know you don’t consider us similar in that way. However, what have I said about what you deserve?”

Caleb’s throat bobs as he swallows, licking his lips before responding. “That- that you decide what I deserve.”

Fjord releases Caleb’s hair with a hum of assent before drawing Caleb up onto his knees, hands on his jaw, so he’s easier to kiss. Caleb goes willingly, stretching up as high as he can without standing; his balance isn’t great like this, but his hands don’t move from behind his back. Deepening the kiss, Fjord doesn’t try to stop the pleased rumble in his chest as Caleb’s lips part eagerly for him. The kiss grows heated, and when he pulls away he has to steady Caleb with hands on his shoulders as Caleb tries to chase after him.

“Steady. Back down, please.”

It takes Caleb a second to process, but then he’s sinking back down to sit on his heels, gazing longingly back up at Fjord. His lips are kiss-bruised and shiny, and it takes Fjord a great deal of will not to give in and just spend the rest of the evening kissing him right here. He has a plan, though, one he and Caleb have talked about previously, and while the prospect of spending the night wrapped up together is a temptation, it’s not strong enough to dissuade him, especially in light of the new information.

Or, at least not yet.

“Oh, you are lovely, though, aren’t you.”

Caleb’s face scrunches, though he doesn’t argue the point; he knows by now it’s not an argument he can win.

Running his knuckles gently over Caleb’s cheek, Fjord lets his hand drop lower.

It’s a joy to feel the jump of Caleb’s pulse against his fingertips when Fjord grips loosely around his throat. Caleb’s eyes go wide when he squeezes ever-so-carefully, body going slack, pliant, and far more relaxed than Fjord usually sees him. The openness is beautiful, the amount of trust Caleb places in him utterly staggering. Caleb’s been hurt before, in this and many other ways, by people who he trusted just as much, people who should have taken care of him, _loved_ him, kept him safe. He can’t fathom having Caleb on his knees like this, offering himself up, and deciding to take that precious gift and destroy it. 

He will not be another pair of hands that break him.

“You’re so good for me, too; you take everything so well.” Moving his thumb a fraction, Fjord lets its claw dimple the skin on Caleb’s neck; Caleb whines, surprised and breathy, and for the first time Fjord sees him squirm, if only just.

Smiling, Fjord releases Caleb’s throat, straightening back up and enjoying the look of him, flushed from his ears down to the collar of his shirt, arms and shoulders tensed from how hard he’s working to keep himself in-check. Moving over towards the fireplace, Fjord gives Caleb a moment to collect himself, gathering cushions and pillows that Caleb always has scattered about their room when he makes the tower. Soon he has a mound of them, and he turns towards Caleb.

“Come to me, pet. Crawl.”

A shudder works its way through Caleb’s body before he rolls forward, all liquid grace, and Fjord wonders if Caleb’s taken more from his fey familiar than his occasionally-borrowed senses.

He slinks his way over to Fjord then stops, sitting back on his heels again, looking up, hands on his thighs instead of behind his back.

“You know,” Fjord says, moving a step closer so that he’s right next to Caleb’s kneeling figure. “I’m of a mind to push and see what it takes for you to lose that well-honed control of yours. To see what makes you squirm and writhe, what makes you _beg_.”

Caleb tilts his head further back to look up at Fjord, meeting his gaze, eyes bright and shining like sapphire-ringed depths in the firelight.

“How fortunate, then,” he says, a small smile quirking his lips up. “That I’m of a mind to let you.”

It’s short work to get them both stripped, and Caleb laid out on the pile of pillows; his skin is warm and flushed pink from the fire, hair glowing like the amber from his spellwork. He’s one of the most beautiful people Fjord’s ever seen, and he still marvels that he gets to have this, that he gets to not only look but _touch_.

And touch he does, skimming his palms over Caleb’s skin, delighting in the goosebumps that rise in his wake. He drinks in every gasp he pulls from Caleb, every hitch of breath and hips. 

It’s longer than he’d hoped, but sooner than he expects when the first ‘ _please_ ’ leaves Caleb’s mouth, and after that it’s like a dam breaking, the words coming fast and quick. Taking Caleb’s wrists, he kisses the pulse point on each before capturing both wrists in one hand, picking up a scarf he’d left nearby earlier. He winds it loosely around Caleb’s wrists, then grabs his belt. They’ve discussed this, trying a more physical binding rather than one made of words and will, and Caleb’s willing to try. With the scarf as a protective layer, Fjord cinches the belt around Caleb’s wrists, nudging some of the pillows aside to find the metal loop Caleb had designed into the floor of their room this time. Feeding the end of his belt through, he pulls, watching enraptured as it tugs Caleb’s arms up and over his head so he can tie it off. Caleb lets him, moving easily along with it, back arching as Fjord anchors his wrists into place. Hands now free to explore, Fjord places one on Caleb’s lower belly, and the other on his jaw as he leans in and kisses him, pulling back only in deference to his need to breathe. Caleb pants, then gasps as the hand Fjord has on his belly skates lower, coming to rest just above where the the patch of red curls starts.

“A few minutes ago I was of a mind to see how much of you I could kiss- to take my time, making sure I don’t miss a single inch.” Fjord smiles. “And now that I’ve got you at my mercy, I think I may do just that.”

“Oh help,” Caleb says, still slightly breathless, lips curling on a smile. “You brute. I don’t know how I’ll endure.”

“Mmhmm, you say that now.” He wriggles down to settle between Caleb’s calves. “You aren’t yet aware of how thorough I plan to be.”

He rubs his hands over Caleb’s knees, letting the warmth of his touch sink in until Caleb’s relaxing back against the pillows with a pleased hum.

“Well, carry on then, cruel villain.” Caleb tilts his head up and back in challenge. “Do your worst.”

Fjord takes his time, just as promised, starting at Caleb’s right ankle and working his way up. As he gets to Caleb’s thigh he slows even further, spreading Caleb’s legs wide so he can fit between. His shoulders are broad, and Caleb gasps as he tries to draw his thighs together and finds he can't, his cock twitching. Fjord smiles at him up the length of his body, and proceeds to lavish attention on the skin before him, nibbling and kissing his way upward.

Caleb keeps trying to squirm, but Fjord’s hold on him is too strong, and all he can do is whine as Fjord sucks bruising kisses onto sensitive skin, his beard scratching as he goes.

By the time he hits Caleb’s hip, it’s been a half hour already, and he pauses, both to give Caleb a short rest, and because he plans to kiss and nuzzle at the hollow there for a few moments anyway. He rises, moving to Caleb’s side, wrapping an arm around Caleb’s leg to hold it still as he gets back to work.

From his hip Fjord works up to his belly, then to his ribs, delighting in how Caleb tries to twist away from him, but can’t. Another few minutes later he reaches Caleb’s nipple, letting the tension rise for a moment before placing a chaste kiss on it and moving on. Caleb thumps his head back on his mound of pillows and groans.

“I appear to have underestimated your cruel nature.”

Fjord huffs a laugh, then backtracks momentarily to flick his tongue against the sensitive nub, Caleb making an undignified sound and twitching in his bonds.

“Well. I did warn you.”

Sighing, Caleb does his best to relax. “That you did.”

He makes his way up further, kissing up the tender underside of Caleb’s arm until Caleb’s unable to hold still, hips shifting in a constant search for friction.

Friction which Fjord doesn’t feel amenable to providing just yet.

He places a kiss just below Caleb’s wrist, then takes a few minutes to kiss his palm, and each fingertip in-turn, and when he pulls back, Caleb is once again flushed, mouth open with his tongue peaking out to wet his lips. Fjord just smiles, ducking down to kiss him, and when he pulls back, he says, “Well, that’s one side done. Time for the next,” and bursts out laughing when Caleb spits a curse at him in vehement Zemnian.

He starts at the fingers of Caleb’s other hand and works his way down again, spending more time and attention on the graceful swoop of Caleb’s collarbone, taking the time to tease this nipple more than the other, sucking it up between his lips, trapping it to flick his tongue against. Caleb arches up, trying for more, and as he does Fjord releases it, hiding his smile at Caleb’s offended mutterings by continuing his progress down Caleb’s ribs.

He reaches Caleb’s other hip, and that’s when Caleb starts to beg again, pleading with Fjord to forgo his plans, to get on with things already, but Fjord’s in no hurry. He rumbles deep in his chest, and reaches up to tweak Caleb’s nipple, eliciting a yelp.

“I have plans for you, I already told you. Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want, but not a moment before I’m prepared to give it to you.”

He’s not expecting the moan that pulls from Caleb as he tugs and twists his wrists, seemingly enjoying the reminder that he’s at Fjord’s mercy for the duration unless he taps out.

This time, as he goes from hip to thigh, he intentionally lets his nose bump lightly into Caleb’s cock, letting his beard lightly rasp over it, pulling a shout from Caleb as his hips buck up. Fjord places a hand flat on Caleb’s lower belly, just below his belly button, and it’s enough to hold him in place.

“If you can’t control yourself, I may need to bind your legs next time, as well.” That pulls another moan from Caleb, his hips trying to roll up but getting nowhere against the hold Fjord has on him. Sucking matching bruises onto the inside of Caleb’s left thigh, he makes his way back down, dotting kisses on his knee, his calf, until he reaches Caleb’s ankle, and sets his leg down.

Caleb is in constant motion under his hands, unable to stop, and it’s such a stark contrast to the first time they were together this way, where Caleb held himself resolutely still, his arms in place no matter what Fjord did. While that was fun, Fjord can’t help but think he likes this better, the physical restraints giving Caleb the freedom to let go of his mental ones.

After sitting back up, Fjord puts his hands on Caleb’s ankles, giving them a squeeze and holding them down for a brief moment, pinning them on either side of his hips where he sits, and Caleb whines.

“Fjord, _bitte_ , please, I need you.”

“And you’ll have me. But we’re not done yet.”

“ _Was_ \- but- you have already done each side!”

Fjord lets his lips climb into a smirk.

“Why Caleb, that was just the _front_.”

There’s another string of Zemnian invective, and his smirk grows to a grin. “Are you going to turn over on your own, or do I need to do it for you?”

Caleb stops cursing long enough to consider, then meets Fjord’s eyes; another challenge.

“Make me.”

“My pleasure.”

He moves from between Caleb’s ankles and up to his side, Caleb watching him closely the whole time. Getting one hand under Caleb’s ass, and the other under his shoulder, Fjord lifts, rolling Caleb over instead of trying to pick him up. Caleb wriggles, resisting, but Fjord is stronger, and soon Caleb’s on his stomach, arms still held securely out in front of him. Patting Caleb on the ass, Fjord shifts back down again. 

“Now, where was I-”

He moves a little faster, though not _too_ fast. By the time he reaches the back of Caleb’s thigh, Caleb is squirming again, pleading with Fjord to have mercy. In response, Fjord nips lightly at the meat of Caleb’s ass, startling a yelp from him.

“Have some patience, Caleb. It could be worse.”

“How-how could it be worse?” Caleb manages to gasp out, whining as Fjord takes a moment to kiss the rest of the way up the back of his thigh.

“Easy.” Fjord inches up and places a kiss where he’d nipped a moment before. “I could be doing all this teasing, riling you up, and then _not_ let you come at the end of it.”

That pulls a broken sound out of the man under him, Caleb’s hips jerking forward in response.

Humming in consideration, Fjord continues on, speaking between kisses as he works his way up Caleb’s back. “Is that something you think you’d enjoy? Being tied down, helpless, while I bring you closer and closer to the edge, never letting you drop off it? Touching you-” He pets a hand over Caleb’s side, and Caleb twists under the touch as much as he can. “-making you feel good, drawing your pleasure out until it’s all you can think about, until there’s nothing left but mindless need.” He reaches Caleb’s shoulder and makes quick work of trailing kisses up his arm towards his wrist again. Under him, Caleb’s moaning has been getting louder, his body more difficult to hold down, though whether due to the nature of Fjord’s teasing, his words, or both, it’s hard to say. The end result is that there’s sound coming out of Caleb on almost every exhale- whimpers, gasps, occasional cries of frustration when Fjord hits an especially sensitive spot- the only words he seems capable of either Fjord’s name, or variations of the word ‘please’.

Fjord’s made his way up one side and mostly down the other when he says, “You haven’t answered my question. Is that something you’d want to try?”

“ _Fjord_ -”

“Hmm, that’s not an answer to what I asked.” He lets his claws drag lightly down the back of Caleb’s thighs, and it pulls a shout from Caleb, his hips again jerking forward at the teasing touch. “I have all night.”

He’s about to do it again when Caleb answers.

“Yes, damn you, it _is_ , but please- _please_ -” The last word comes out almost on a sob, his hands clutching desperately at the pillow under them.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He stops the teasing and rubs his palms firmly up where his claws have just been, going a bit further to give Caleb’s ass a gentle squeeze.

“ _Götter, bitte fick mich einfach-_ Fjord, _please-_ I need you-”

“Okay, it’s alright, I have you, just a moment.” He pats Caleb’s ass and moves away to grab the oil he’d stashed nearby. When he returns, he sits between Caleb’s calves again. “Scoot forward until you can get your knees under you, pet.”

Caleb lets out a breath and begins to move, inching forward until he can do as Fjord bids, though most of his chest and arms are still pressed down into the pillows. As his hips rise, Fjord gets a glimpse of Caleb’s cock, flushed and hard, dripping now that it’s not pressed into the pillows. Unable to help himself, Fjord leans forward, extending a hand to lightly drag his fingertips over Caleb’s cock, and Caleb shudders, a desperate sound punched out of him.

“Yeah, you’re ready, aren’t you.” Fjord murmurs. Opening the oil, Fjord slicks up the fingers he keeps his claws blunted on, and with his other steadies Caleb with a touch to his hip. “Easy, now.”

At the first touch of slicked finger to his hole, Caleb shivers, doing his best to brace despite not having full use of his hands. Fjord can’t help but tease a little, circling a moment or two longer than strictly necessary before slicking his finger again. With a quiet encouragement to relax, he slowly presses in, Caleb’s breath hitching as he struggles to do as asked.

He takes his time, being thorough in preparing Caleb, though the more Caleb begs and pleads, holding position despite how much he's trembling, the harder it is to keep to his pacing. It’s unexpected how much it's affecting him, and the fact that Caleb appears just as affected if not more so eases his mind a little about how much he’s enjoying this.

By the time he’s got Caleb as prepared as he thinks he’s going to get, Caleb’s devolved into broken Common, Zemnian appearing more and more frequently; he doesn’t understand more than a few words, but the tone is easy to decipher.

It isn’t until he goes to slick himself up that Fjord realizes that much like Caleb, he hasn’t really been touched since this whole thing started. He lets out a rumbling groan as he strokes himself, and it’s an effort of will to stop once he knows he’s ready. If he’s feeling this wound up, he can’t imagine what Caleb is experiencing, and suddenly the begging makes a lot more sense.

Shuffling up behind Caleb, he settles his hands on Caleb’s hips, petting.

“You ready, Cay?”

“I have been ready for an _hour_ , Fjord.” The words are strained, and Caleb tries to lean back into Fjord but the tether at his wrists pulls him up short, eliciting a growl of frustration.

“Well, if you’re going to be _rude_ about it-” Fjord says, letting his smile color his tone, and Caleb makes another desperate sound.

“I will say whatever you need me to say, just- _please_ -”

He doesn’t make either of them wait any longer, taking himself in hand to line up properly before starting to press in. Forcing himself to go slow, not wanting to hurt Caleb by accident, he takes a moment to make it all the way in, and once fully-seated he pauses, just breathing as he rubs his thumbs over Caleb’s hips where he’s holding on. Under his hands Caleb is shaking, breaths coming out in shallow pants. Now that he’s a little closer, it’s easier to see the sheen of sweat on Caleb’s skin, making him glow even more in the firelight.

It drags moans out of the both of them when he finally starts to move; he wants to stay slow, to make this last even just a little bit longer, but that’s not going to happen. As it is, he’s barely restraining himself; then Caleb takes his restraint and cleanly snaps it in two.

“ _Verdammt noch mal,_ Fjord, if you do not fuck me like you _mean it_ , so help me-”

If Caleb’s coherent enough to form not only full sentences but _threats_ , well then perhaps he’s right, and it’s time to let loose.

Fjord pulls back and snaps back in, and it pulls a strangled sound from Caleb, his hands flexing as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. There’s no more slow, no more gentle; Caleb asked for a fucking, and that’s what he’s going to get. If the gasped moans and cries are any indication, Fjord’s doing a pretty good job of it.

He’s not going to last long, knew from the moment he touched himself to slick up that this wasn’t going to be too drawn out. He wishes he’d unanchored Caleb’s bindings from the floor ring first, to make it easier to lift him up to get a hand on him, but too late for that now. Letting go of Caleb’s hips, Fjord braces one hand on the floor and tries not to break his rhythm too much when he winds the other around Caleb’s waist and grabs hold of his cock.

The sound Caleb makes as Fjord takes him in hand is going to stick with Fjord for a long time.

He’d wondered once what it would be like if Caleb was so wound up, so overwhelmed by sensation that he couldn’t control the sounds he was making, and now he knows. Caleb’s wriggling under him, and Fjord can imagine it’s an impossible choice for him right now- does he press back to Fjord to get him deeper, or does he buck forward into Fjord’s hand? Caleb seems incapable of choosing, movements uncoordinated as he shakes beneath him.

Fjord does his best to keep the hand he has on Caleb moving, but his own coordination right now also leaves something to be desired. On one thrust, Fjord must hit Caleb’s prostate, because Caleb _howls_ , back arching further, and something about it- either the way Caleb tightens around him, the sound of him, or some combination of the two- sets Fjord off. He comes so hard he swears he sees sparkles across his vision, and as he starts to slow the movement of his hips, Caleb keens under him, still moving.

“Please- Fjord please don’t stop- I’m so close, _please_ -”

Fjord realizes that his hand has ceased moving, and immediately gets it going again, the lack of urgency on his part making it easier to focus, to pay close attention to what he’s doing and to do what he knows Caleb likes.

When Caleb comes a moment or two later it’s with a deep groan, Caleb’s back arching up as if he’d curl into it if he could, but once again the tether keeps his upper body stretched out and his hands out of reach. Fjord works him through it until Caleb starts to gasp with oversensitivity, and then releases him, hands coming back to Caleb’s hips to gently squeeze.

Fjord pulls out carefully, but even with that care, Caleb’s squirming, hips moving as if he’s trying to get one last thrust out of Fjord, but if he wants that he’s going to have to wait a few hours. Once he’s clear, Fjord helps Caleb flip over again to his back, taking in Caleb’s dazed expression. He leans down and kisses him, hand cradling the side of Caleb’s face, and Caleb near-purrs into it, making a dismayed noise when Fjord pulls away.

“Easy, I’ll be right back, I want to get your hands loose for you.”

Crawling up the mound of pillows, Fjord locates the ring and gets the end of the belt loose from it, helping Caleb lower his arms back down. It’s the work of a moment to get the belt off Caleb’s wrists, the scarf unwound, and he checks, making sure there’s no chafing, that the restraints haven’t hurt Caleb in any way. There’s the faint imprint of the belt, even through the scarf, but Fjord knows that will fade within an hour or so. He massages Caleb’s wrists, then sets them to rest on Caleb’s stomach as he reaches up to place his hands on Caleb’s shoulders, releasing some of the healing energy he has available to soothe any strain Caleb might have sustained.

Caleb relaxes further into the pillows with a sigh, watching dreamily as Fjord wipes him down with a damp cloth from their washroom, and is eager to snuggle close when Fjord lays down next to him on the pillows.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, basking in the warmth of the fire and each other, and Fjord thinks Caleb’s drifted off when Caleb speaks.

“I think,” Caleb says, “I could be persuaded to do that again.”

Fjord snorts a laugh, pulling Caleb closer to kiss the top of his head. “Could you, now?”

“Mm, _ja_.” Whatever he was going to say next gets cut off by a jaw-cracking yawn, and Fjord starts to disentangle himself from Caleb, earning him a grumpy look.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” Getting his arms under Caleb, Fjord stands, taking the other man with him, Caleb letting out a yelp as he’s lifted. “Bed or bath?”

Caleb stills, then points towards the washroom. “Bath, noble hero.”

With a huff of laughter, Fjord heads there to the pool of gently steaming water. He sets Caleb down so he can enter under his own power, and soon they’re both happily situated, Caleb leaning up against Fjord’s side as they soak.

“So, you enjoyed yourself? Even with all the cursing I presume you were doing?”

“ _Ja_ , Fjord, I did.” Caleb smiles. “Even with all the cursing I was _definitely_ doing.”

“I’m glad.” Fjord ducks his head to press a kiss to Caleb’s head. “Because I’ve already got some thoughts on other things to try.”

Beside him, Caleb shivers despite the warmth of the water, and Fjord could swear he sees Caleb get a darker shade of pink than he already is from the bath.

“Is, uh- is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

Quiet for another moment.

“I do not suppose you plan on _telling_ me what those thoughts are.”

Fjord lets his grin go a bit smug. “Nope.”

Caleb grumbles, but he’s smiling, so Fjord doesn’t think he’s _too_ upset.

“Well, then I suppose I will just have to wallow in the mystery, then.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Fjord gives him a squeeze, mind already buzzing with ideas. “You won’t have to wait for long.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Götter, bitte fick mich einfach_ \- Gods, please just fuck me
> 
>  _Verdammt noch mal, Fjord_ \- damnit, Fjord
> 
> As always, if my 'Zemnian' isn't accurate, please let me know so I can fix it!


End file.
